


The Best Defense: Part II

by kronette



Series: Best Defense [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of part I. Methos meets up with an old friend to discuss his life changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Defense: Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Information about the characters in this story was obtained from the Watchers CD. Any inaccuracies ... blame them . Or my faulty math; I tried to keep this as accurate with the chronicles and show as possible, but I might not have been able to in places. Originally posted 1997 under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

Paris, early spring, 1982

~~~~ 

The interior of the church had changed little through the years. The most noticeable change was the chairs, added for comfort. What hadn't changed was the Quickening of the Immortal who lived there. It washed over Methos, and instantly, he felt himself relax. He went directly to the alcove off the altar and pushed open the door. 

"Darius, old friend," Methos murmured as he slipped into the room. 

Darius turned from the cupboard with a welcoming smile on his face. "Methos, good to see you. What brings you by?" They shook hands, then Darius indicated the chairs. He slid smoothly into his proffered seat. 

Methos dropped easily into the offered chair, then folded his hands on the table before him and met Darius' eyes. "I met Joe Dawson last night." 

"Dawson?" A puzzled frown appeared on the weathered face before him, then smoothed; the name must have connected. "He's a Watcher." 

Methos nodded. "I was present at Von Braun's Quickening. Dawson took me aside and made me an offer I couldn't refuse." 

A disapproving frown tugged at Darius' mouth, and Methos inwardly winced. He knew he was taking a risk, and he said so. "Before you say it, I know it's a big chance. But, I've been with the Watchers before, and I know my way around background checks." 

Darius protested, "But never in this century. Things have changed. Technology..." 

"Is easily circumvented," Methos finished smoothly. "Don't worry, old friend. I'm meeting with Dawson later today. Before I go, I wanted to do some checking on him. What do you know about him?" 

Darius settled back in his chair, deep in thought. "Let me check something." 

Methos waited patiently while Darius went into the other room. 

He returned with a well-worn, bound book. He settled back down on the chair and carefully turned the pages until he found the one he was looking for. 

Methos was burning with curiosity to see the book, but he knew better. If Darius had wanted him to see it, it would have been his to look at. This was a private journal, and he would respect that. 

"Ah, here he is." The priest looked Methos in the eye and smiled knowingly. "I thought so. He is Duncan MacLeod's Watcher." 

Methos groaned quietly. " _I_ knew that; why did _you_ have to know that?" He sighed. "I can't get away from this guy, can I?" 

"You asked," Darius teased. "It's not my fault that's who he was assigned to watch." 

Methos snorted in answer. 

"Do you want to know about him or not?" 

He glared at Darius, but he couldn't hold onto it for long. Soon, he sighed in exasperation and waved a hand. "Go ahead." 

"He's been watching MacLeod for about seven years. He looks to be moving up the ranks in the organization. He has a very promising future. He's a good man," Darius finished as he snapped the book shut. 

"That's always good to know," Methos murmured. 

"And MacLeod is as well," Darius pressed. 

Methos rubbed at his nose. "Darius..." 

"I've known the man for a hundred and fifty years. He's a decent man, almost to a fault. I know you don't trust easily, but I give you my word; he will not harm you." 

"I know," Methos replied quietly. This was a conversation they had had many times before, usually ending the same: Darius would extol MacLeod's virtues, Methos would fling his biting sarcasm, and they would end at a stalemate. 

"Promise me that if you ever do run into MacLeod, you will tell him who you really are. Lies and deceit he cannot forgive, but he will just about anything else." 

"Really?" The look Methos shot the priest was amusement mixed with disbelief; they both knew what lay in Methos' past. 

"If you don't hide it from him," Darius stressed again. 

Each time they had this argument, Methos felt his defenses slipping an inch more. With his appointment in few hours, his defenses were too weak to withstand the priest's steely gaze. "I will tell him who I am, if I ever meet him," Methos promised. His business finished for the time being, he smiled openly now. "How about a game of chess? I have a few hours to spare." 

Darius chuckled and slid the book inside his robe. "Only a few hours? With you, that would be four moves!" He stood up and went to a trunk at the end of the bed. 

"And you, three," Methos countered with a grin. "But I would like to talk with you; I haven't seen you much lately." 

"Ah, I've been busy tracking another new Immortal. And there's always the old ones to keep up with," he teased with a glint in his eye. 

Methos let his sarcasm flow. "Wouldn't be talking about me, now would you, _old man_?" 

Darius had his back to Methos, but he didn't miss a word of the return barb. "Hah! You're twice as old as me." 

"But you look older," Methos shot back, smugly. 

"Touche. Are you going to talk, or are you going to play?" For while the two had teased each other, Darius had set up the chess set and made the opening move. 

Methos glanced to the board and moved his pawn. "I am a bit nervous about rejoining the Watchers," he admitted. "It _has_ been a long time." 

"You'll be fine," Darius soothed. "You always were the best at blending into new centuries. You embrace change; you welcome new technology." Darius moved. 

"You did it just fine." Counter move. 

"It took work to fit into this century, my friend. So much change in so little time. Remember when the Americas were discovered; how big the world seemed? And now we have the ability to fly there in less than a day. It used to take weeks to travel to another country." Another move. 

"The world doesn't change, Darius. Only the details. The world is still the same size it was two thousand years ago. But it is filling up," he mused softly. 

"Cramping your style?" the priest teased. 

A mild lift of the corner of Methos' mouth. "Maybe a little. I spent nearly three thousand years in wide open spaces where little grew for miles, let alone a building stood. Now, everything is so crowded. Look outside; hardly a hint of green. It's all stone and mortar." 

"Feeling nostalgic?" Darius asked. Though his voice was teasing, the light in his eyes was anything but. 

Methos knew Darius missed his homeland; missed how things used to be. All the older immortals went through such drastic changes; especially the ones still alive today. Current times were changing almost too fast for the mortals. "Aren't you?" Methos countered, and took Darius' queen. "Check." 

Darius studied the board, then moved. "We cannot reclaim the past." 

"Thank God for that," Methos murmured as he moved his bishop. 

The two Immortals smiled at each other. Tight smiles, filled with bitter regrets and sad memories of times past. 

"Paris has changed," Darius noted as he took his turn. 

"You have changed. I have changed. We are survivors, Darius. No matter what happens around us, we will still be standing." Methos slid his glance over the board, then made his move. "Even when the walls crumble around us." 

"A morbid picture on such a fine day," Darius remarked casually. He passed Methos a biting glare, and despite being older, Methos felt like he had just been chastised. 

He cleared his throat. "And today should be a day of joy. After all, I am about to join the Watchers." 

Darius spent a minute studying the board, then made his choice. "You are so sure they will let you in?" 

"Adam Pierson has been established at the Universite de Paris for a few years now. I'm a known face. The paperwork has been in place for at least five years." 

"What about the computer trail? Have you taken care of that as well?" 

Methos flexed his long fingers. "I'm one of the best computer hackers this side of the Atlantic. If anything turns up missing or in question, I can fix it within minutes. Have no fear, my friend." 

The two remained quiet for several minutes as they finished up the game. Darius' eyes swept the board, and he looked up at Methos with a raised brow. He picked up his king and laid it on his side. "Two more moves." 

Methos broke into a large smile. "You got sloppy." 

"I let you win," Darius shot back. 

"Hah!" 

They smiled companionably, then Darius rose to his feet. "Have some tea?" 

"Love some," Methos replied with a nod. Then he glanced to his watch. "We'll have to make this quick; I need to be at Shakespeare and Company in an hour." 

"It only takes a minute to warm; you'll be there in plenty of time." Darius set about preparing the pot, then glanced back to him. "Ready to make a good first impression, _Adam_?" 

Methos' expression abruptly changed. No longer was he Darius' old friend; now he was Adam Pierson, youngish grad student. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice mild. 

Darius shook his head. "That still amazes me how you do that. That is your gift, my friend. You are a man of a thousand personalities." 

"Are you implying something about my mind?" Methos quipped, back into his regular personae. 

"I would never do that," Darius assured him with a wink. "And you never could take a compliment." 

Methos merely shrugged and started playing with the edge of the worn table. He felt Darius' warm hand on his shoulder, then a cup of tea was placed in his line of vision. 

"And you never could take the reminder of it," he whispered gently in Methos' ear. "Why can't you accept compliments?" 

"Maybe because I've been lied to so much in my life. I can't tell where the compliments end, and the jokes start. They sort of blend together." 

"You need to socialize more. Maybe joining the Watchers is a good idea. You'll have to interact with a lot of people then." Darius grinned. "Attend mundane parties dressed up in tight, uncomfortable suits." 

"Not me," Methos replied mysteriously. At Darius' upturned eyebrow, he grinned. "I'm going for a special assignment. I'm going for head of the Methos Project." 

Darius' eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. "That could be very dangerous." 

"For who? I'm going to make sure they learn Methos is really a myth," he commented lightly as he sipped at the tea. 

Darius thumped the teapot onto the tabletop. "You cannot hide who you are." 

"Why not?" Methos demanded through clenched teeth. "Isn't it bad enough that Antonia went after my head? I don't want my friends turning on me just because I'm older than most." 

"Methos, you are older than anyone else on the planet," Darius reminded him gently. 

"That's beside the point," Methos grumbled. "I'm so tired of having friends betray me. I'm tired of losing friends because of who I am." 

"I know." Darius leaned forward and clasped Methos' arm at the elbow. Methos' hand automatically repeated the gesture on Darius' forearm. "But I will always be here, my friend." 

"Thank you, my friend." Methos cleared his throat, then disentangled his arm. "And I really do have to go, or I'll be late." 

"Good luck, Adam." 

Methos flashed a quick smile, then was gone. 

~~~~~ 

Each step closer to the bookstore, he fell more into his Adam Pierson personae until his hand touched the doorknob. Then he _was_ Adam Pierson, graduate student of Ancient History and Classical Languages. He stepped inside and inhaled deeply. The rich sent of old leather tickled his senses, and some of his nervousness faded. He had been in this bookstore before, for research at the Universite. It was a cozy place, and he felt at home there. Dawson's smiling face appeared around a shelf, and Adam shifted his attention to him. Two men were with him; one he vaguely recognized, the other a complete stranger. 

"Ah, Mr. Pierson," Joe Dawson greeted him with a hearty handshake. "I'd like you to meet two friends of mine; Don Salzer and Jacques Vemas." 

Adam shook Salzer's hand first. As he looked into Salzer's eyes, he sensed an instant kinship with the man. It warmed his heart. Vemas was a bit colder; a bit harder. Adam didn't have to pretend to be a nervous kid; his stomach was fluttering. But, his voice remained calm as he replied, "Nice to meet you." 

With formalities out of the way, a sense of purpose settled over the four men. "Why don't we take this to the back room?" Dawson asked with a raised brow. 

Salzer and Vemas nodded, and they retired into a small office in the back. 

Adam's eyes scanned the room, taking note of some of the antiquities along the shelves. Some interesting knives and swords, as well as other things undoubtedly collected from those Immortals who had lost the Game. 

"Have a seat." 

"Hm?" Adam queried, then blushed. He hadn't realized he had been standing in the doorway, just staring around the office. "Sorry," he murmured, then slipped into the chair by the wall. 

"It's okay," Dawson assured him as he settled down in the chair behind the desk. "These are mementos from battles. Some quite old." 

"And some that should be in the museum," Vemas' thick accent cut in, and Adam winced. It was obvious the man wasn't happy with Dawson, and Dawson knew it. He smiled thinly at the dark man. "I consider this an extension of the main museum," Dawson replied quietly. 

Salzer cleared his throat. "Could we get to the business at hand? I'm sure Mr. Pierson has studies he needs to get back to." 

Methos let out a soft sigh of relief, then smiled minutely. "Actually, I made sure the afternoon was free. I thought this address sounded familiar; I've been in here a few times." He turned to Salzer and studied him. "You're in here a lot, aren't you?" 

Salzer sat up a bit straighter, with pride. "It's my bookstore," he declared, that pride filtering into his voice. "I've run it for fifteen years now." 

"I've found some interesting texts on ancient Babylon through here. Would the Watchers have anything to do with that?" 

Salzer exchanged a look with Dawson, one Methos couldn't read. It set his nerves on edge. 

"Having connections all over the world is an advantage, I admit," Salzer hedged. "I pride myself on being able to find any text, no matter how obscure or hard-to-get." 

"You've never been proved wrong; at least, not with me," Adam smiled shyly. 

That seemed to settle Salzer. "Good. Well, what say we get to the reason we're here, gentlemen?" 

Dawson and Vemas nodded. 

Vemas opened a file on his lap and started to read. "Adam Pierson; born in Rudin, Wales, to parents Arlene Furlow and Maxwell Pierson. Mother died during childbirth; father's whereabouts unknown. No siblings. Unmarried, no children. Graduated Aidan's College at Durham, currently a PHD candidate at the Universite de Paris. Strong computer skills. Speaks and reads fluently: Phoenician, Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, ancient Greek, Latin Aramaic, Hebrew, Arabic, Coptic and Farsi." He closed the file and stared hard at Adam. "Did we miss anything?" 

Adam's eyes were wide, and not just from acting, either. He was a bit stunned at just how much they had found out about him in such little time. Luckily, he was a very thorough, paranoid Immortal. "You forgot Sandstone; my dog when I was ten," he snapped sarcastically. 

Vemas flipped the file back open and was reaching for his pen when Dawson's voice stopped him. "For goodness sake, Jacques! You're scaring the kid." Dawson glared at Vemas until he reluctantly put his pen away, then he turned to Adam. "Your background check came through clean. Your family history seems okay, too. All we need from you is a psychological profile, and then you'll need to go through training." 

"And take the oath," Vemas warned. 

Adam could almost see Dawson roll his eyes. "And that, too." 

Methos felt the situation spinning completely out of his control, and he had to put a stop to it. "Whoa." Adam held up his hands. "All this to let me in? Mind telling me why it's worth it, first? I already know I can't tell my family anything; but what about when I get married? Have kids? How do I explain...?" 

"It's worth it." Salzer's quiet declaration settled over them all like a blanket, and instantly commanded everyone's attention. "The secrecy is as much to protect ourselves, as to protect them. You understand why." It was not a question, and Adam understood, all too well. He nodded, then Salzer continued. "If Immortals found out we knew about them and were recording their lives...some might not see it as the historical fact-keeping that we do. They may see it as a threat. Our families might be placed in danger. I would protect my Christine to the ends of the earth." 

Salzer fixed his gaze on Adam, and Adam felt trapped by it, but it wasn't unpleasant. He felt like a son being lectured to by his father. In a way, it felt...comforting. "But it is worth it, in what you learn. When you get to our library, you could spend days there, soaking up history. _Our_ history, told through their eyes. Major events take on a personal feel; the lives that were lost take on new meaning. We make sure that those people are remembered. _That_ is what makes it worthwhile. Knowing you are making a difference. You are making a mark for all of history to read." 

Salzer's impassioned words faded, but the silence remained. Adam felt his heart beating faster as he contemplated Salzer. _This_ was the reason he wanted back in the Watchers; men like him. Men who cared; who didn't just record, but realized there were _lives_ behind the words. 

Dawson cleared his throat. "We do make special arrangements for married Watchers," he replied quietly. "Only in certain circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone about us. But we'll deal with that when the times comes. You're not seeing anyone seriously, are you? We didn't run across that in our check." 

All of Adam's peace evaporated, and he panicked. "You checked to see if I was dating someone?" he cried, alarmed. If they had been following him today, they would have seen him with Darius. All his plans would be ruined, and he couldn't try this for another couple of hundred years. 

"Only as a precaution. We're not following you around, Mr. Pierson. All we're trying to do is get an accurate picture of who you are. That includes your lifestyle," Vemas answered. 

His intense relief at the knowledge that they hadn't followed him was short-lived. "My studies are my life," he replied with quiet rage. 

"We noticed that. What exactly are you studying ancient languages for, Mr. Pierson?" Vemas asked. 

Adam heard the disdain in Vemas' voice and fought to keep his anger in check. Vemas was pushing every button he had, and he didn't like it one bit. "I'm a history fanatic. I've always loved it. I was hoping to come across another Rosetta stone, or something of equal importance. I love history, but I've always been afraid that whoever does the translating has left out important information. By learning the ancient languages, I intended to translate some ancient texts myself, and do some comparison." 

"No wonder you didn't get your grant," Dawson remarked with a low whistle. 

"Yes," Adam replied with a rueful grin. "Imagine the implications if my theory were true." 

"Well." Salzer spoke for the first time in minutes. He unwrapped a very tattered book and handed it to Pierson. "Suppose you tell me what this says, then?" 

Methos took the book carefully, and turned the pages with equal care. It was written in a mix of Attic, Greek and Coptic -- he thought. "Just how old is this?" he asked breathlessly. He recognized a name; Methos. Was this one of their chronicles? Or was it something he himself had written, and forgotten about? 

"We estimate 1800 years; based on events described in the text. Can you make any of it out?" 

Adam tried to still the slight shaking of his hands. Eighteen hundred years ago... "It describes a desert, and a battle...I believe this is a name...Methos..." Adam nearly let the book slide onto the floor, but caught it in time. He remembered now; he remembered exactly what this book would go on to describe. He forced his concentration back to the book. "This language...it's not quite any one language, but phrases are recognizable. A transitional language?" Something mundane to get his mind off the memories; that's what he desperately needed. Of all the possible outcomes of today, this was one thing he hadn't predicted. He fought down a wave of panic as he fought with himself to forget his memories. 

"No, not really. I think the person who wrote it just didn't know one full language. They pieced together what they could, and hoped someone would figure it out later. Or maybe they didn't realize what they were writing; it's possible." Salzer was clearly the scholar here, and he was excited that he could read the text. 

Adam forced himself to translate the hasty scribblings. "'The man...dragged...shouting...bound...demon-lover...'" Adam looked up from the text, a puzzled frown on his face. "This is severely fragmented. Was this person trying to say that someone had been taken prisoner, accused of special powers?" 

"Not entirely. You see, Methos - the name you translated - is an Immortal. He was taken prisoner by another Immortal right after the first Punic War. Apparently, he thought of himself as a god at the time, and protested his treatment. He was killed repeatedly for it, as you'll see later on." 

Adam didn't need to see; he could remember. He shivered as he felt the iron slide into his chest, felt the warmth of his own blood bubble up in his throat and gag him. That was one of his worst times, and he recalled every cursed minute of it. He couldn't believe the Watchers had been there then. "The people saw him die and revive again and again?" he questioned as he tried to control his body's reactions to the stirred-up memories. His breathing was easy enough to control, but his pounding heart wasn't so cooperative. And his hands were sweating. He left the book open on his lap as he casually dried his palms on his jeans. 

"Not the people; Methos was kept under close guard at a palace. The Watcher was a peasant who delivered bread daily. He recorded what he saw when he was inside, and he chatted with the guards, who sometimes let things slip." 

Adam closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember a face, but couldn't. Not one of a bread-deliverer. No, there was only one face he remembered from that time. One he would never forget. 

"Keep reading. You might find something else interesting in there." Salzer's eyes were sparkling, and Adam acquiesced, though his insides were churning. 

He swallowed hard as his eyes swept the delicate pages. The Watcher had seen little, but recorded faithfully what he did see. Which was more than Methos would have liked; he very nearly had a description of himself! "Is this a description of this Methos?" Adam pointed to the passage. 

Salzer glanced at the book and shook his head sadly. "We're not sure. It was either Methos or the Immortal who ran the palace. I think the two looked similar. Later on, the Watcher describes one of them, but doesn't say exactly who it is. Maybe you will be able to decipher it?" he challenged lightly. 

Adam swallowed the bile back down. His smile felt sickly. "I'd love the chance, if I get the chance." He forced himself to fall back into Adam Pierson; to shove Methos aside to be dealt with later. One deep, cleansing breath, and he was steadier. "When do I take these psych tests? And what else is involved? I want to know exactly what you plan to do to me." 

Vemas answered again. "We can set up the psych test for early next week, if you have some time off. It will take about two hours. If you pass that, then you go on to Geneva for training for two years. Once there, you take your oath of loyalty and silence. If you pass everything satisfactorily, and the Tribunal deems you fit, you're in. We give you a stipend...are you currently living in Paris?" 

Pierson nodded. "University housing. Stipend?" he questioned. 

"We are a very old, very wealthy organization, Mr. Pierson. We provide for our own. You can continue your studies at the university as a cover; in fact, we'd prefer it." Vemas leaned back and interlaced his fingers. "Dawson said you were interested in a desk job?" 

Adam bristled at the term. "Not just a 'desk job.' I want to do research. If you ran a check on me, you know it's what I'm good at. Very good, in fact. History seems very important to you; factual representations of events. It's important to me as well. This Methos - you haven't found him in awhile, have you? I'd like - no, I _want_ , the chance to trace his steps. I want to find out who he knew, and where he's been. Imagine; a five thousand year old man, still walking the earth! Just imagine who all he could have known; what all he's seen." His eyes were blazing by the time he leaned back in his chair, his breathing harsh. He hadn't intended to get so vehement in this personae, but something in Vemas' manner just rankled him. 

Salzer chuckled, and Dawson grinned. Adam sent them both a puzzled frown. 

"Passion is hardly frowned upon, Mr. Pierson. If we wanted some lackey to do research, we'd have any number of college students doing it. No, what we want is someone with fire; someone who really gives a damn. So far, you're fitting the bill." Dawson turned to his computer and Adam could hear it booting up. "Do you have some time on Monday? We can schedule the tests for then, and if all goes well, within a week we can have you begin training." 

Adam's jaw fell open, stupefied. "That - that's it?" 

Dawson sent him a kind smile. "Yep, that's it. If you're that set on research, then Don here will be your sponsor. I handle the active ones, and usually only in the States. I was here for a special case." 

"Sharon," Adam automatically supplied. 

Dawson shot another glance to Vemas, and Adam felt another cold chill down his spine. 

"Told you he was good," Dawson stated quietly, and Adam relaxed. He turned back to Adam, and replied, "Yes, Sharon. But Don here is the head of research, and specifically, he's been working on the Methos Project. He hasn't wanted to take the chair because that would pull him away from the store. But you..." 

Dawson let the thought trail off, but Adam internally finished it for him. 'But you...you could slip right into it with no problem.' Adam passed the book to Salzer, then rose to his feet. "Monday will be perfect." 

"Here's the address." Dawson wrote on a piece of paper, folded it, and handed it to him. "Don't tell anyone where you're going, or what you're doing," he cautioned. 

"I won't," Adam replied with a trace of annoyance. He may look like a wet-behind-the-ears-kid, but he'd be dammed if he was treated like one. "I do understand some of the risks involved." 

"By the time you get through training, you will understand all the risks," Vemas threatened lightly. 

"I'm sure I will," Adam replied through clenched teeth. Salzer's hand on his shoulder drew his attention. 

"Come, Mr. Pierson. Or can I call you Adam?" 

He let out a breath to regain his control. "Adam will be fine... ?" He raised his eyebrows in question. 

Salzer smiled. "Don. Come; if you have the evening free, I'd like you to meet my wife. Share supper with us; I think we may have a lot in common." 

Adam relaxed in the outright enthusiasm the mortal presented. "I think we might," he commented lightly. "Especially if you can tell me stories of some of your collection in there," he indicated the bookstore. 

Salzer's eyes lit up. "That, I can do. Gentlemen," he nodded to Dawson and Vemas, then dragged Adam back into the bookstore. 

"And what's this I hear? You're an Aidan graduate? So was I! Class of '51!" 

Adam had to laugh at Salzer's enthusiasm. The man was hardly young, but still brimming with life. "I'm sorry," he gasped at Salzer's pained expression. "It's just that my life has apparently just changed radically, and we're talking about our alma mater. Doesn't it seem...I dunno; strange to you?" He grinned, and Salzer slowly matched his grin. 

"Forgive me, my young friend. It's not every day I get a new researcher. Do you know it took me three weeks to translate that book? And I watched you glance through it and figure out the basics in minutes! You are truly a find, Adam Pierson." 

Adam fought the sense of dread he could feel tightening his chest. He hoped nothing of his plan backfired. He suddenly felt protective of the other man, and ducked his head to hide the blaze in his eyes. "That's nice to hear," he murmured as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

"Of course, you do realize you'll need a haircut," Salzer mused. "And I'm not sure about the earring." 

That snapped Adam's head up. "What?" 

Salzer grinned. "A bit long, isn't it?" 

Adam touched his hair, which brushed his shoulders. "I didn't think so," he replied calmly. "And I will not give up the earring." 

Salzer shrugged. "I don't care, of course. It's them," he jerked his head toward the other room. "Well, Vemas might. He just got appointed Area Supervisor, and he's a bit..." 

"Stuffy?" Adam supplied. 

Salzer just smiled. "Joe's a good man, and a good friend. We've known each other for years. Maybe you'd like to get together with us when you return from Geneva? We usually play a mean game of poker on Friday nights." 

Adam smiled. "I'd like that," he replied quietly, then his face fell. "I'll be gone two years? What about my studies?" 

"We have people at the University. They will hold your position for you. When you return, it will be there, waiting for you," Salzer assured him with a smile. "Have no fear. Your life will not disappear when you join. It will expand to reaches you cannot possibly imagine now." 

Adam struggled to keep a straight face, but Salzer's -- Don's -- passion for the Watchers was beginning to affect him. "I'm already sold on the idea, Don. I don't need the pitch," he said gently. 

"What? Oh," Salzer replied sheepishly. "Forgive me. I get carried away." 

Adam let his smile grow until he felt it crinkle his eyes. "Don't apologize. It's nice to know you're passionate about your work." 

"That, I am, my young friend," Don replied. "Now, let me call my wife and tell her to expect us. I hope you don't mind American food," he called over his shoulder as he walked behind the counter to the phone. 

Adam fingered a book spine near his head. "It's fine," he answered, though he could already hear Don talking excitedly with his wife. He grinned. "I think I just got into a whole lot more than I bargained for," he whispered to himself, but he didn't mind. In fact, he looked forward to it. After all, he was on his way to becoming Methos' Researcher. What better place to hide? 

The End 


End file.
